The Most Important People in the Universe
by it-will-be-anarchy
Summary: Castiel pulls Dean Winchester from hell with only one notion: this man is destined to be the Most Important Man in the Universe. Meanwhile, the Doctor gets a message from the angels (not the weeping ones): they need his help to contact the woman who was once the Most Important Woman in the Universe, even though she's forgotten now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story is mostly a lot of dialogue, and if I had a nickel for every time I used the word 'said,' I'd be able to afford college. It will eventually get darker than what may be expected. Everyone may be a little out of character, if it was deemed necessary to move the plot along.  
**

Dean sat on a table across from Bobby. Bobby whistled slightly, holding his shotgun, while Dean idly twirled his knife's edge across the table. They sat in the appearance of being nonchalant, while in all actuality Dean's insides were twisting inside of him. The garage around him was covered in symbols from every religion known to man. The sky outside was dark, and the only light source came from harsh overhead hanging lights.

Dean grew tired of sitting quickly, and asked Bobby irritably, "Are you sure you did the ritual right?" Dean was, of course, referring to the summoning ritual Bobby had just performed, to find out who-what-had dragged Dean out of hell.

Bobby only glared at him in response, and Dean said, "Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?"

At which point the whole garage started to shake. The panels on the roof flapped viciously. "Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," Dean said as he and Bobby jumped to their feet, looking around, weapons at the ready.

Every hanging light then proceeded to blow out, raining sparks down upon the scene that unfolded before Dean. The doors of the garage opened of their own accord, and in strode a…man. Just a man, in a trench coat, looking around him with a vaguely bemused but mostly stern look upon his face.

Dean and Bobby, both wielding shotguns, began to shoot at the stranger. Astonishingly, each bullet entered the man, but did not faze him in the least. He continued to walk toward Dean with determination.

Dean grabbed his knife as he came face-to-face with the man. "Who are you?" he demanded.

The man's dark hair was messy and windswept, and his eyes were a wide and an unassuming blue color. His voice was shockingly gravelly as he answered, "I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Yeah. Thanks for that," Dean replied, and stabbed his knife into the man's chest. The man looked at the knife, drew it out, and dropped it. The knife clattered on the floor.

Bobby took this chance to attempt to hit the man in the head with a crowbar; but the man sensed the movement, and without even looking gripped the opposite end, stopping the movement. He then twisted nimbly and raised two fingers to Bobby's forehead. Bobby's eyes rolled up into his head, and he dropped to the ground.

Dean watched this happen in a terrified sort of awe. His breath hitched when the man turned back to stare at him. His expression was one of…well, almost of nonchalance.

"We need to talk, Dean," the man said. He cast a quick glance to Bobby, which Dean mimicked, before he continued, "…Alone."

Dean stared back at him for a few moments, before rushing to check Bobby's pulse.

"Your friend's alive," the man said with no intonation.

"Who are you?" Dean asked again.

"Castiel," the man responded.

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean _what _are you?"

The man stopped fidgeting with Dean's impressive array of weaponry that he had set aside for this encounter and looked back at Dean. "I'm an angel of the Lord."

Dean stood up. "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

Castiel moved closer. "This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith."

Suddenly, thunder sounded, and lighting flashed into the garage. Dean saw a pair of shadowy wings unfurl and rise behind Castiel. Dean couldn't believe his eyes.

Finally, Dean found words. "Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes," he said, referring to the unfortunate encounter in which the psychic Pamela had tried to look upon Castiel and ended up blind for it.

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be…overwhelming to humans," Castiel said carefully. "And so can my real voice. You already knew that."

Dean thought back to the high-pitched whistle that he had been hearing since he had come back from hell. "You mean the gas station and the motel? That was you t_alking?_"

Castiel nodded.

"Buddy, next time, lower the volume."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong."

"And what visage are you in now, huh?" Dean sneered condescendingly. "What, holy tax accountant?"

"What, this is…a vessel," Castiel replied.

"You're possessing some poor bastard?" Dean said angrily.

"He's…a devout man, he actually prayed for this," Castiel said, seeming almost confused as to why Dean couldn't grasp the idea.

Dean shook his head slowly. "Pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?"

Castiel tilted his head and squinted at Dean. "I told you."

Dean nodded once. "Right. And why would an angel rescue me from hell?"

"Good things do happen, Dean," Castiel said, stepping closer and practically ignoring all unspoken rules of personal space.

Dean stared him down for several seconds before saying in a gruff voice, "Not in my experience."

Castiel looked at him disbelievingly. "What's the matter?" He looked closer for a moment, and then said, "You don't think you deserve to be saved."

Dean was momentarily taken aback by the accuracy of Castiel's statement, but brushed over it by saying, "Why'd you do it?"

Castiel kept a steely gaze on Dean as he said, "Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you."

Dean's confusion was evident. Castiel couldn't explain more at the moment, as he barely knew what Dean's mission was himself. All he knew is that he had fought tooth and nail through hell to reach Dean. All he knew is that this man standing before him was destined to be the Most Important Man in the Universe.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Doctor?"

"Yes, Clara, what is it?" the Doctor said, a little impatiently, looking up from where he had been doing a little routine maintenance on the TARDIS.

"A message. The TARDIS is receiving something."

The Doctor stood up, pushing his hair back from his face. He moved quickly to the TARDIS monitor, where a message flashed brightly, demanding attention.

_Hello Sweetie, _followed by a set of coordinates.

"Hello Sweetie," Clara read. "What does that mean, Doctor?"

The Doctor gulped. "It means," he said, straightening his bowtie, "we're going to have to pay a little visit to the Mrs."

"To the _what?_" Clara squawked, but the Doctor was already inputting the coordinates into the TARDIS. He pulled the lever, sending him and Clara spiraling through time and space, leaving Clara's thoughts spinning.

The TARDIS touched down in London, circa 2008. The Doctor always felt strange around this time. This was around the time that he seemed to find most of his companions. Maybe the TARDIS just had a strange pull to 21st century England, he wasn't quite sure.

The Doctor opened the doors of the TARDIS. It was sitting right below Big Ben. Clara followed him out the door, asking a bunch of hurried questions that the Doctor didn't quite listen to. He was waiting for a familiar shape-a telltale head of bouncing curls in the crowd…

"Hello Sweetie," came the voice from behind him. The Doctor and Clara both jumped and spun around. There she was, River Song in all her glory.

"Who are you?" Clara sputtered out quickly.

"Professor River Song, dear," River said, holding out her hand to politely shake Clara's.

"Why'd the Doctor refer to you as 'The Mrs.'?" Clara said breathlessly.

"She's my wife," the Doctor replied, almost warily.

"Your…wife?" Clara said, astounded. Her eyes were wide as she looked back and forth between the Doctor and River.

"The both of us are time travelers," River explained. "We never seem to meet quite in the right order, though. This, however, is astonishing," she said, smiling at Clara, "as it seems that we are meeting for the first time, both of us not knowing who the other is, which doesn't happen often for me. What's your name, dear?"

"Clara. Clara Oswald," Clara said, with a sort of goofy smile creeping up her face.

"Lovely to meet you, Clara. And as for you, Doctor," River said, pulling out a blue notebook from her jacket, "where are we?" She flipped through a couple of pages before saying slowly, "Demon's Run?"

"Yes," the Doctor said almost impatiently, "but River…Manhattan?"

River flipped through some more pages. Then she smiled. "So we're to meet in Manhattan, are we? More fun to look forward to. Maybe we should ask mum and dad to come along," she said with a wink. "So I think I have a pretty good gauge of where you are, and you know where I am it seems, so let's get down to business, shall we?"

The Doctor looked pained, but resigned. "Why did you call me here, River?"

River's smile slipped from her face. "Well, you see, this is where things get complicated," she said. She turned to Clara. "Sorry, this all must be a bit confusing for you."

Clara shrugged. "I'm used to it. Traveling with the Doctor, I'm never _not _confused."

"Well, I don't know how much he's told you about himself," River said carefully, slowly. "But not everything is…good in his past."

"River, what are you getting at?" the Doctor said, his voice smooth and questioning, but his insides were twisting with panic.

River sighed and moved her hands through her hair. "Well, long story short, the angels and demons are at it again, just being their nasty selves for starters. Not the weeping angels," River added quickly, after seeing the Doctor's wide-eyed look, "the actual angels. You know, the ones you practically swore never to deal with."

"I still don't plan on dealing with them, if I can help it," the Doctor said moodily.

River gazed at him with pity. "Oh, sweetie, I wish it could be so. But you know how meddlesome they get in the affairs of certain humans."

"Oh, don't I," the Doctor grumbled.

River squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, before saying slowly and in a pained voice, "There's no easy way to say this, but they've created a…sort of…prophecy. They are afraid that Lucifer will be making a grand return, and they need people to stop it."

"Me? They want me to stop it? No thanks, that's not really my area," the Doctor said vehemently. "The angels can deal with the angels. They have been for the history of the universe, why do I need to step in now?"

"No, you've got it wrong, Doctor," River said sadly. "You know how they use humans to fulfill their wishes against one another. No, Doctor, they've chosen a human to complete the prophecy. But I've been in contact with a few of them, and they'd really like your help with this, if you'd be willing to lend them some."

"Get on with it," the Doctor hissed, stepping closer to River.

"They've chosen two people. They've got control of the one situation, but you need to help them with the other."

"What, what is it!" the Doctor practically yelled, fire and ice and rage all burning in his eyes. "What could they possibly need!"

River swallowed, and then said thickly, "What they need is…the Most Important Woman in the Universe."

Silence ensued. River looked at the ground sadly, while Clara watched the two of them, noting their distress. After several tense moments, the Doctor turned around and stalked into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind him to keep Clara and River out. He then sank down against the door until he was sitting on the floor.

He put his face in his hands and cried.


	2. Chapter 2

"So it was an angel?" Sam said, taking another stab at his salad with his fork and munching loudly on the lettuce.

"Yeah, it was an angel," Dean said as he took a bite of his burger. His mouth was full when he continued, "Said his name was Castiel. If that's not a dick name then I don't know what is."

"So God, the Bible, all that stuff is real," Sam said in wonder, not making eye contact with Dean.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well, just because there's angels doesn't mean there's a God. And just because God gave me work to do doesn't mean I'm going to do it."

Now Sam looked at Dean. "Shouldn't you, though? I mean, it's _God, _Dean. You can't just blow this off."

Dean chewed and ungracefully swallowed. "Yeah, well, I don't even know what it is that God wants me to do. I mean, that angel dick disappeared pretty fast after we had our little discussion."

Sam shrugged. "Well, there's got to be a way to call him back. I don't know, maybe, pray to him or something."

Dean shook his head. "No way, Sammy, I'm not doing that. If they want me, they can come to me."

Later that night, Sam was in the shower while Dean was laying on his bed in the motel, idly flipping through channels on the TV. He was about to drift off to sleep above the covers when there was a sound like a rustle of wings, and Castiel literally appeared out of thin air.

Dean started, and his heart must have skipped a beat. He clutched at the side of the bed, and managed to choke out, "Damn it, Castiel," before regaining himself.

"Hello Dean," Castiel said.

"How the hell…what the hell…why the hell are you here?" Dean stuttered angrily.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Well, I thought I'd take this opportunity to answer any of your questions that I can, since we're…alone." He cast a pointed look in the direction of the bathroom, where Sam was still showering.

"Anything you have to tell me, Sam can hear," Dean said, but decided not to push that fact because at least the angel was here. "I just want to know what God wants with me."

Castiel moved closer to Dean, once more disregarding personal space, until he was standing over him. "The exact details are confidential," he said, "but I can give you an idea. I trust that you remember Lilith."

Dean coughed. "Remember? She's a pretty constant part of my nightmares, man."

"Well, Lilith is trying to break the sixty-six seals as told in the book of Revelation to free Lucifer from his cage."

Dean took a moment to process this, before saying carefully, "Lucifer? As in, Satan?"

"If you prefer to call him that."

Dean let out a small, disbelieving chuckle. "And so what would happen if Lucifer went topside?"

"The apocalypse."

"Great," Dean muttered. "Fantastic. And what does God want me to do about it? Stop Lilith?"

"That remains to be seen," Castiel said. His blue eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Dean's. "But I need to know that Heaven has your full support."

"My full support?" Dean said, springing to his feet and striding away from Castiel. "I can't support this when I barely know anything about it! I don't want to say yes if all Heaven is going to do is send me on a suicide mission!"

"Heaven does what is best for mankind," Castiel said patiently. "Your intention has always been to do what you find best for mankind. I'm sure God only deemed that you and I had matched objectives, and decided that you had the skills to carry out what needed to be done."

"Yeah, well, do me a favor, Cas, and come back with some answers next time," Dean said, turning his back to Castiel.

Castiel stood there for several moments, before there was a rushed sound of wings. Dean turned back around and Castiel was gone.

"Were you talking?" Sam said, coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

"Castiel was here," Dean said flatly.

Sam looked around, eyes wide. "He was here? Where did he go?"

"I found out the scary way that angels can just pop up out of thin air if they want to. And they can disappear just as fast."

Sam sat down on his bed. "Wow. Dean, I mean, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I didn't ask to be dragged out of hell."

"Well, no. But I'm sure being here is better than the alternative, isn't it?" Sam said, biting the side of his tongue and looking meaningfully up at Dean.

Dean sat down on the edge of his bed. "I just want some damn answers, Sammy."

"And I'm sure you'll get them, all in good time. I doubt that it's often that God sends heavenly messengers to communicate directly with humans, so I think we need to be patient as everyone just figures out what's going on. So tell me, what did Castiel tell you?"

It was a long while before the Doctor opened the TARDIS doors once more to allow Clara in.

"Doctor," she said hesitantly, before gathering her courage, "can you tell me what's going on?"

"Where's River," he asked, his voice slightly scratchy.

"She left," Clara replied. "She had to go, but she said just to call if you needed any help."

"She didn't explain anything to you?"

Clara bit her tongue before saying, "She told me…you had a friend once. And you lost her."

The Doctor sighed. "Sit down, Clara."

Clara perched precariously on the edge of one of the TARDIS's steps, and the Doctor sat next to her.

"I had a friend a while back," he began gradually and delicately. "Her name was…Donna. Donna Noble. And she was extraordinary."

The Doctor fell silent, so Clara smiled and nodded at him, her eyes soft, encouraging him to go on.

The Doctor licked his lips. "It's hard to go into all of the details, but in a way her mind sort of…became like mine. She started to think like a Time Lord. Humans aren't meant to think like Time Lords, Clara. And it was going to destroy her from the inside out." The Doctor's voice cracked a little, and Clara put her hand on his shoulder. "She had never thought of herself as anything special. And finally she discovered that she was special, but she couldn't stay that way. She had to forget all of our travels to have any chance of staying alive." The Doctor shuddered. "I had to build a sort of…a sort of wall in her head, to block out any memories of me. She forgot everything. And she went back to her normal life, and to this day, she doesn't remember that she saved the universe." Clara gasped, and the Doctor smiled. "She did, Clara, she really did. The entire universe would just be a void of devastation if it weren't for her. And she doesn't even know she did it. She still goes through every day believing that she's nothing remarkable. But she is so remarkable, Clara."

Clara allowed the story to sink into the silence for a while. Then she said, "So we need her back, then? But what's going to happen? If you needed to block her memories, what would happen if she remembers?"

The Doctor's voice shook. "Nothing good."

"So how do we solve this?" Clara said determinedly, jumping to her feet and pacing around the TARDIS. "There must be an answer." She stopped walking and looked at the Doctor. "If they want her so bad, the angels must have an answer. Why can't we just talk to them?"

The Doctor stood and straightened his jacket as he walked over to the TARDIS console. "The angels and I aren't exactly on…speaking terms."

Clara huffed. "Oh, come on, Doctor. For Donna's sake, we need to do something, don't we?"

The Doctor paused for a moment. Then he came over and kissed Clara on the top of her head. "You're wonderful," he murmured. "Absolutely brilliant. Of course you're right."

Clara grinned. "Clara Oswald for the win. Oswin!" she said, giggling.

The Doctor pretended his hearts didn't lurch at her words, and entered the coordinates into the TARDIS.


End file.
